


All Saints Day

by MJ (mjr91)



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjr91/pseuds/MJ
Summary: A little Halloween offering...





	All Saints Day

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

All Saints' Day by MJ

7 November 1998  
A little Halloween offering...  
Thanks to the ever-lovely Te for quick and dirty beta and suggestions.

* * *

"All Saints' Day"  
by MJ

As I make my way into my Georgetown apartment, the main streets are filled with costumed partiers. Georgetown is a party neighborhood, if one lives too close to the main avenues, like Wisconsin Avenue or M Street. I am lucky; my little enclave is relatively quiet. I hang up my coat, heat water for a cup of tea, and collapse on my sofa. Tonight is Halloween. All Hallows' Eve, Father Carson said back in school, when the Celts believed that the dead walked among the living. We are more enlightened, being a Christian people, and therefore do not celebrate the pagan festivals, but, rather, the lives of the saints. Tomorrow is the Feast of All Saints, and I will join my mother at Mass.

Saint Catherine of Alexandria. My patron saint. Patron saint of young women and of women students.

Saint Luke, the Physician. The patron saint of medicine.

Saint Michael the Archangel. The patron saint of law enforcement.

Saint Erasmus, and Our Lady, Stella Maris, Star of the Sea, the patrons of sailors. For my father. For Bill.

There is a patron saint for everything, I believe, or for nearly everything. I know there is a patron saint of Argentinian pelota players. What pelota is, or are, baffles me, but Francis Xavier is their patron saint.

There must be a saint for everything. There is too much to pray for out there. I've covered myself, my job, my family. Mulder. Lord knows, I've prayed hard enough for the man. He's still alive; perhaps it's worked. Saint Michael again, for my partner? I don't know of a saint for psychologists, although Saint Dymphna is the patron of the mentally ill. Of course, Mulder did have someone drill holes in his head... maybe his saint is Dymphna, more than I'd like to think she is.

Saint Raymund Nonnatus. The patron of those falsely accused. I think of him for Skinner. Not just for the murder, but for my own doubt, and for trying to persuade Mulder to turn him in, back when I was in the hospital. That reminds me. I can still make Confession tonight. Father, forgive me, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession...

Saint Philomena. Virgin and martyr. Beloved of many of the Nineteenth Century saints, including Saint John Vianney, who Father Carson always liked so much. Patroness of several things, but notably of the near-impossible.  
    
Saint Philomena, pray for us.  
Example of strength and perseverance, pray for us.  
Mirror of most heroic virtues, pray for us.  
Thou who wert miraculously cured in prison, pray for us.  
Thou who wert sustained by angels in the midst of torments, pray for us.  
Thou who wore out the fury of thy executioners, pray for us.

The kettle whistles. I could use a microwave to heat my water, but I need this ritual after work, just as I need the rituals of faith to hold me together. I turn off the burner, pour my tea in my favorite china mug, the one Ahab brought me from Japan.

I stare at the tea as it steeps. Mulder and I were talking at lunch today. He invited me out this evening, but I declined. I've given up on Halloween parties, on the pagans at the doors. I don't begrudge him his love of the holiday, his weakness for the dark and the dead, but I find more comfort in the acts of faith I take now. I believe, despite my having seen. The more I see, the more I need to believe.

Mulder told me. He's seeing Skinner. I don't think there's a saint for that, although I wouldn't be too sure about what a few of the Popes have done in their spare time. Idiotic job move that it is on his part, I'm afraid I'm voting for Saint Dymphna again. I should buy him a medal of her. I can't help, though, feeling that he's taking yet another dive into the wonderful realm of the near-impossible. If he isn't, then certainly Skinner is. I wonder if Skinner realizes what he's in for.

Saint Philomena, illustrious by thy most splendid miracles, pray for us.  
Saint Philomena, powerful with God, pray for us.  
Saint Philomena, who reigns in glory, pray for us.  
Saint Philomena, pray for us, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

God knows they need it. God knows I do, myself. I grab my coat again. I just have time to make Confession.


End file.
